Why "Laird" Isn’t Just Another Period Drama—It’s a Mirror to Our Global Power Struggles
Let’s cut to the chase: Laird—Paramount+’s new Highland saga starring Kenneth Branagh—sounds like standard prestige TV on paper. A noble family defending ancestral lands against a shadowy billionaire? Classic. But peel back the tartan-clad surface, and this show might be tapping into something far more urgent: the existential anxiety of a world where land, identity, and power are up for grabs. Literally.
The Creative Dream Team: Why This Matters
When Joe Wright (of Atonement and Darkest Hour fame) teams up with Jez Butterworth (The Ferryman), you know they’re not here to rehash Braveheart with a Netflix budget. Wright’s knack for blending intimate drama with sweeping historical backdrops—plus Butterworth’s gift for weaving mythic tension into family sagas—suggests Laird could transcend its fish-out-of-water premise. But here’s the twist: this isn’t just a clash of old money and new wealth. It’s about who gets to write history when the land itself becomes a commodity.
Personal take: What excites me isn’t the “feuds and secrets” checklist (though I’ll binge-watch that too). It’s how Branagh’s character—a Scottish laird—becomes a symbol for cultures fighting to survive in a world where billionaires buy islands and oligarchs weaponize real estate. Sound familiar? More on that later.
The Billionaire Villain: A Cliché or a Cultural Diagnosis?
Let’s dissect the antagonist: a “shadowy American billionaire” hellbent on buying Scottish glens. At first glance, it’s a trope—the foreign investor as villain. But dig deeper, and this character feels like a manifestation of real-world anxieties. Land grabbing isn’t fiction: from Amazon buying up water sources in drought-stricken regions to Gulf states acquiring farmland in Africa, the idea of outsiders exploiting local resources isn’t just a plot device. It’s front-page news.
What many people miss: The show’s conflict isn’t about nostalgia for the past. It’s a reckoning with how modern capitalism treats centuries-old traditions as assets to monetize. The laird isn’t just defending a castle; he’s guarding a cultural ledger that can’t be priced on a spreadsheet.
Why Rural Resistance Stories Are Having a Moment
From Derry Girls to Succession’s Montana ranch arc, there’s a growing appetite for tales where remote locales become battlegrounds for identity. Laird fits this mold—but with a key difference. It’s not about escaping modernity; it’s about resisting its homogenizing force. The Highlands aren’t a postcard here. They’re a frontline.
A broader angle: Rural vs. urban narratives thrive in times of polarization. When cities feel alienating and globalism seems to erase local character, audiences cling to stories where place still means something. Is Laird a comfort show for the Brexit generation? Maybe. But it’s also a universal parable about who gets to belong—and who decides.
The Hidden Stakes: Environmentalism, Heritage, or Both?
Here’s where the show could surprise us: environmentalism isn’t just a buzzword in 2023. If the billionaire’s schemes threaten the glens ecologically, Laird gains a third layer—climate allegory. But will it lean into that? Or will the drama stay locked in interpersonal feuds?
My speculation: The best family sagas (think Longmire or The Durrells) balance intimate drama with environmental texture. If Wright and Butterworth nail that alchemy, the Scottish landscape won’t just be a backdrop—it’ll be a character with its own arc.
Final Thoughts: Why This Could Be More Than a Streaming Bait
Is Laird just another streaming service’s bid for awards? Possibly. But in an era where land ownership debates dominate climate policy, cultural restitution, and housing crises, this show could accidentally become a zeitgeist moment. Or at least give us a new archetype: the eco-laird, defender of soil and soul.
One thing I’m certain about: We’ll never look at a Highland again without wondering who’s really pulling the strings. And that’s the point. Television at its best doesn’t just entertain—it rewires how we see power. Even if it’s wearing a kilt.
